Promises Linger (Promise Series) (21 page)

“You mean
you
want to court me?”

This time, he was the one to look startled. “Well, who’d you think?” Realization dawned mid-sentence. His brows dropped low. “You didn’t think I’d be bringing in strangers?”

He didn’t need to say it as if it were the furthest thing from possible.

“How am I supposed to know what you think? We’re already married. The marriage has been consummated and you ask me if I want to be courted. You’re the most contradictory man!”

“That’s a heck of a leap you made there.” He grabbed a napkin and swiped at the spill.

She took another breath, clinging to her patience and ladylike demeanor. “Husbands do not court their wives!”

He stopped wiping his pants with the napkin and stared at her a good long minute. His expression was inscrutable. “Darlin’, we’re further behind than I thought.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I can see that.”

She was beginning to believe he delighted in keeping her off balance. She wiped her hands on her apron. “Are you badly hurt?”

His expression was wry as he shifted gingerly. “There are parts of me that have been happier.”

She inched closer to the door. “I didn’t spill the coffee on purpose.”

“If I thought you did, you couldn’t sidle to that door fast enough to save your backside a warming.”

She stopped. The door was only two feet away. “It was an accident. You startled me.”

He sighed. “Come here.”

“I could get you some cool well water.”

“Quit stalling and come here.”

Before she took the steps to bring her within reach, she shifted her grip on the coffee pot. Her plan was for nothing. She’d forgotten how much taller he was. As soon as she got close enough, he plucked the pot from her hand.

“You won’t be needing this.”

“I—”

His finger over her lips cut off her protest. “I don’t want lies between us. It was a smart move, thinking to use that coffee as a weapon should I turn ornery.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t know what to say and since he did seem to be complimenting her—for thinking about tossing coffee in his face?—the response seemed appropriate. Dear Lord, he was addling her brain. “I don’t understand you.”

“You’ve said that before.” He reached out and pushed a loose piece of hair back from her face. She felt foolish for flinching. His touch was nothing more than an infinitesimal brush of skin, incredibly gentle. Soothing.

“It’s clear as day you’ve met with a few ornery types. You’re as nervous as a cat with its tail under the rocker, always waiting for me to turn on you.” He shook his head and curled his hand around her head. She felt engulfed. Threatened. She conjured up an image of a huge stone wall and mentally shoved her fear behind it. Not for anything was she going to let him know how much he frightened her.

“I can feel your muscles tightening.” His gaze was sharp on her face. “You’re scared now.”

Her lips were dry. So was her mouth. She had to lick her lips before she could get the words out. “It was an accident.”

“You’re thinking this is a trick and I’m planning on getting my own back.”

It took everything she had to stand still under his hand when she heard the accusation in his low-voiced drawl.

“I know you’re mad,” she said. She wanted that in the open. Mad she could deal with. Mad she understood.

His “Ah, darlin’,” was incredibly soft, almost sad, but the hand that pulled her against his chest was relentless. He wasn’t satisfied until he had her head resting over his heart and her body wrapped in his arms. She stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. What he expected of her.

“Listen.”

She waited. He followed the order with nothing. After a minute or two, she couldn’t stand it anymore. “What?”

“Listen.” Something touched the top of her head. His cheek? “What do you hear?”

“I can’t hear anything except your heartbeat.”

“Is it beating slow or fast?”

She pressed her ear slightly closer. “Slow.”

He took her hand and placed it on his jaw. “How does it feel?”

With the barest of movements, she explored. “Rough and prickly.”

His chest bounced her cheek on a chuckle. “Guess I’ll be upping my shaving to twice a day.” His hand covered hers and pressed her fingers into his skin. “How do my muscles feel? Hard and tense or relaxed?”

“Relaxed.”

“Exactly.” His hand left hers. She dropped it to his shoulder. This close, she didn’t have any place else to put it.

He tipped up her chin with the side of his finger. “I’m not mad.”

“I burned you.”

He’d started shaking his head before she finished speaking. “I startled you and you spilled the coffee. There’s a world of difference between the two.”

She was shocked to her toes that he saw the difference. She was afraid everything she was thinking showed on her face. She tried to duck her head, but his finger under her chin kept her face exposed to his gaze.

“No more hiding.”

Could he read her mind?

“I made you a couple of promises back at the saloon. Do you remember what they were?”

“You’d keep my ranch safe and you’d keep outsiders from hurting me.”

“You married me with that being your understanding?”

From the way his head jerked back, she got the impression that she’d shocked him. Did he think she was so dimwitted she couldn’t remember their deal? “Yes. It was more than I expected.”

“You promised me obedience not thinking that I’d keep my hands off you?”

“It’s not illegal for a husband to hit his wife.” Though it should be.

“Darlin’, little as most women are and as big as most men are, it darn well should be.” It was a shock to hear his words echo her thoughts. He eyed her up and down, seeming to miss nothing in the examination. “If I ever took a notion to whale on you, there wouldn’t be anything left but a greasy spot.”

“I’d survive.”

His finger was no longer required to hold her chin. Pride alone kept her gaze locked with his. He shook his head. No doubt he thought she’d crumble at the first hint of pain. Well, he’d soon find out he had another think coming. Her father had made sure she was strong.

“It never occurred to me that you’ve been waiting for me to sock you one,” he continued. “Heck, no wonder you were so interested in my stepping between the blacksmith and that little boy.”

She took immediate offense. He made it sound like she was some beaten cur, crawling with its tail tucked between its legs. “I haven’t been waiting.”

“It hadn’t occurred to me,” he went on, ignoring the interruption, “because I don’t hit women, I don’t kick dogs, and I don’t beat on little kids.”

Did he think she was going to swallow that line of bull? “Everyone gets mad.”

“Yes. They do. When I get mad, I yell.” He winced. “A lot. When I get so mad I think I’m going to lose it, I slam doors and storm out of the house. I don’t take out my bad humor on things littler than me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You apologizing because my heart’s beating fast and my muscles are tightening up, or because you believe you’ve been insulting me regularly for the last day or so?”

She ducked his gaze, not wanting him to read the truth in hers. “Both.”

“How about we make a deal?”

“What?”

“Bring your gaze back up here, darlin’.”

She figured if she didn’t, he’d be pushing it up with his finger. That and the fact that she didn’t want him thinking she was a coward were the only reasons she met his serious gaze with hers.

“How about we put aside the thought that we’re married and you let me court you with all the courting rules in place?”

“What’s the point in that?”

“The point is that I don’t like having to walk on egg shells, and I don’t imagine you do either. It means that I like the way we worked together in the barn a whole lot more. I’d like to have more of those moments rather than those stiff formal ones I keep running up against. The only way you’re going to be comfortable with me is to get to know me without feeling pressured.”

“Courting couples don’t share a bed.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“But men want,” she paused, decided this wasn’t the time for modesty, and plunged on through her inhibitions. “You’ll want to share a bed.”

He shook his head as if she were dimwitted. “I’m not saying I won’t want to spark, but I got to be honest, darlin’. The next time we go to bed, I’d like to feel I’m making love to my wife and not forcing her.”

What game was he up to now? His eyes were a mellow gray. His chest relaxed against hers. There was no sign this was a trick, but she knew it had to be. If Asa weren’t so much a man, she’d have started thinking he was one of those sissies in the dime novel she’d read once. She’d stopped believing that nonsense the day her father had caught her in the hayloft reading one. He’d spent the next month showing her the way of the real world. She’d come to understand quickly the only use a real man had for soft womanly emotions was to use them as a weapon against a woman. Like Brent had used them against her.

“Courting me isn’t necessary,” she told Asa. “You didn’t force me and it’s ludicrous to feel like you did.”

His head was shaking before she got to the last syllable. “It doesn’t set well with me. I don’t want to be telling my son that I all but raped his mother.”

“You didn’t rape me!” He wasn’t going to lay that guilt on her.

“I know you gave permission, but it still isn’t a night I’m building fond memories on.”

“I did my best. If you’d told me what you wanted…”

“I’m not placing blame.” He put his fingers over her lips, halting her instant retort. “You did what you had to do to save the ranch. I did what I had to do to keep the ranch. We did what was necessary to seal a business deal. But we didn’t begin a marriage.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.”

“Mr. MacIntyre…”

“Asa.”

She took a breath and counted to ten. She had to talk him out of this lunacy. “Mr. MacIntyre, I fail to see what’s wrong with what we have now. It’s a clear-cut business arrangement based on mutual understanding. You know where you stand and I know where I stand. That we enjoy each other occasionally is an unexpected plus.”

“There you go again, getting all formal on me. It was good between us in the barn. And I’m not talking about grooming Shameless, but the minute it was over, you started making me out to be a stranger.”

“I don’t think of you as a stranger.”

“I’m not going to argue with you. I’m ordering you to think on some courting rules. I want you to think on what you need to be comfortable, and then I want you to pass that on to me.”

“You want me to direct the course of our…courtship?” Why hadn’t any of the rumors that preceded the man indicated he was loonier than a bed bug?

“Yup.”

“What if you don’t like what I’ve decided?”

He flashed her a grin. “Then, like every young buck who’s ever come a courtin’, I’ll do my best to change your mind.”

“You’re serious.” My God, she couldn’t believe it!

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“We’re married. To me, that’s a once in a lifetime thing. I’ve seen other couples who’ve made a marriage work. Seems the one thing they have in common is they’re comfortable with each other. We got the cart before the horse here, but it’s fixable.”

“So your plan is to fix it by courting me?”

“Yup.”

“According to my rules?”

“You got a better plan?”

“No.” But she wasn’t sure she liked this one. There were too many risks. All on her side.

“Then I say we go with mine.”

“How much time do I have?”

“For what?”

“To come up with a plan.”

“Do you think you’ll be needing more than a day or two?”

There had to be a way his offer could work for her. If she thought on it hard enough, she’d come up with a plan of her own. “I think two days would be sufficient.”

“Good.” He took a step back. For the first time since he’d touched her, she felt like she could breathe. “I’m going to change clothes.”

“I’ll finish the biscuits,” she told him as he stretched. His shirt caved in over his stomach. She decided to make up another batch. The man was still awfully lean.

He brought his arms down. “After supper, I’d like to take a look at your records.”

“They’re in the study.” She watched as he strolled to the door. The depth of his tiredness showed in the set of his shoulders. “Would you like some salad greens with supper? I think there are still some in the garden.”

“That’d be fine.”

She watched as he left the room. A slight limp indicated his discomfort. Whether she’d really burned him or if it was the fact that the wet denim clung uncomfortably, she wasn’t sure. She felt guilty either way.